


Children With a Smile

by GhostsThough, Pawesome Kat (GhostsThough)



Series: Partners in Crime [1]
Category: Fairly OddParents
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, Work Up For Adoption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostsThough/pseuds/GhostsThough, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostsThough/pseuds/Pawesome%20Kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a matter of few hours, he learned a few things.<br/>First, he was one of the many clones of a boy named Timmy Turner.<br/>Second, none of them had names beyond being called “You” and “It”.<br/>Third, the other clones loved to serve.<br/>He didn’t.<br/>Partners in Crime Part 1 - Nega-Timmy's backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Nega's backstory to a Evil Jimmy and Nega Timmy fan fiction I will be publishing in the near future called, Partners in Crime. Please note, he is NOT the one from the show, although the two will look and soon act alike.
> 
> Chapters will be short, and I hope to update every other day (due to my job). After Children With a Smile, I will be posting Evil Jimmy's backstory. And then Partners in Crime will finally be published. I'm just writing most of the chapters to it before publication.
> 
> Here's the summary of Partners in Crime if you're interested:  
> Summary: Evil Jimmy and Nega never thought they would have to save the day, but when an evil arises that threatens the very fabric of time and space, they are there to stop it. With no other allies to fight back they find themselves thrown head first into a world where it's either kill or be killed. Warning: Dark fic.

_"...monsters aren't born, they're made..."_

― C.J. Roberts

o-o-o

His first memory was of pink smoke. His second was of Gary, a boy with slicked back black hair, sunglasses, and a red jacket, who became visible once the pink smoke cleared.

 _"Who are you?!"_ he had yelped upon spotting him, stepping back while he eyed Gary with a narrowed look.

Gary had looked a little miffed at the question, but still answered, "I'm your - _totally cool –_ master." He placed his hands on his hips, smirking. "That means you do as I say."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? You aren't the boss of me."

Immediately Gary's confident smirk waned, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Why? Because I created you!" He poked him in the chest, making him wince. "Now _smile_ and ask me, _'How may I serve you?_ '"

He glanced down at the finger on his chest then back up at Gary. Unable to hold his stare, he asked his feet, "Um…How may I serve you?" He held his breath, anticipating Gary's response.

He made a pleased noise. " _Good._ You'll be saying that a lot." Gary grasped his chin, and turned his head up to face him. "Just remember, always smile."

Frown haven replaced his earlier grin, he quickly forced its return at Gary's words, earning a nod of approval.

Gary had then lead him out of the room he had woken up in; outside in a long gray corridor, he spotted a sign that read "Magic Copier Room" before he was pulled down the hall. Noises he didn't hear before came up, of metal on metal and the murmur of people talking. Before he knew it, he was standing at the threshold of a large dining hall, full of a variety of creatures – from snakes to a giant, man-slash-motorcycle – and waiters, who oddly enough, were all the same kid.

He said that fact out loud, which earned an eye roll from Gary. "No kidding."

Brown hair, blue eyes, buckteeth, same height, and a pink hat… the only thing setting each of them a part were the bruises marring their faces. Some that walked by had black eyes, others with a chipped tooth. One he thinks may have a badly sprained ankle from the way it limped. It was disconcerting that even while obviously beaten, and most likely in pain, they kept on grinning like everything was fine. The sight made him queasy.

Gary didn't seem bothered by the scene, and after allowing him a brief moment to take in everything, continued pulling him forward and in the direction of a swinging door the waiters walked in and out of. As Gary passed, a few close by waiters stopped what they were doing and asked, "How may I serve you?"

 _That_ made him shiver. Were they Gary's creations as well?

Gary passed them without a word, and pushed open the swinging door to what looked like a kitchen. There, the same boys he had seen as waiters dressed in yellow shirts with blue flowers across them, white shorts and shoes were behind a metal counter, but in outfit's characteristic of a chef, cooking quickly. Finished dishes were placed on the metal counter, where they were promptly whisked away by a waiter to be delivered.

He turned to Gary, confused. "Why are they all the same?"

Gary raised an unimpressed brow at him. "Have you looked in a mirror?"

He frowned – momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be smiling – and shook his head. But Gary had already turned his back to him as he called for a waiter. Whatever he asked of it, he didn't hear, too busy thinking about what Gary had said. Did he mean…what he thought he meant?

He was startled out of his thoughts when a waiter suddenly stepped in front of him, holding clothing out to him, which he took and hugged to his chest tightly.

"Put these on," Gary ordered, "then return here for further instruction." Turning to the waiter, he said, "You, show it to the bathroom."

"Yes sir." The waiter gestured for him to follow, and lead him farther into the kitchen to a small, closet-sized bathroom, which the waiter pushed him into gently. The door closed after him with a click, and all of a sudden there was another kid there, gawking back at him.

He yelped, falling back onto the toilet seat. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, and he snapped his head around, looking for the kid. But he was gone.

Carding his fingers through his bangs, he huffed out a breath, and shook his head. He must have been seeing things. Everything has been so weird ever since he woke up.

Retrieving his new clothes from the floor – he must've dropped them when he fell – he stood up from the toilet, but promptly froze when a pair of blue eyes met his.

It took all but a few seconds for him to realize that was him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Nega is hit.

In a matter of few hours, he learned a few things.

First, he was one of the many clones of a boy named Timmy Turner.

Second, none of them had names beyond being called "You" and "It".

Third, the other clones loved to serve.

He didn't.

* * *

That very same day was the first time someone had hit him.

He had just set down a plate with the I-Hate-Timmy burger and a side fries on the table when they did it.

Immediately, he jumped back, and - forgetting how he was not allowed to speak unless confronting a customer or spoken to that dictated a response - yelled, "Hey, what was that for?!"

The one who hit him was a giant pink snake with red hair and pink eyes that were currently glaring down at him. In a hissing voice, the snake barked, "Show some respect!"

Then the snake's tail struck him again, and harder this time too. He lurched forward into the table from the force of the blow, and felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes when the back of his head stung. Stubbornly he kept the tears at bay, and only allowed a sniffle past to show what he felt.

The pink snake tilted its head at him, and slowly, a pleased grin crossed its features. With the furrow of its brows, the look was ominous, and promised only bad things to come.

A cold wash of dread filled him, and as quick as he could, he backed away from the table, smiled shakily, and tried to hide his trembling hands behind his back while he nodded his head in respect. Then he was out of there, walking in a fast pace straight for the kitchen; in his head he came up with half-assed excuses as to why he was heading for the bathroom if someone were to stop him and ask.

 _I feel sick_ , was what he came up with, which was not far from the truth. But no one had stopped him, or even looked in his direction as he passed. Finally stumbling into the closet-sized bathroom, he sat down on the lid of the toilet, wrapped his arms around himself, and finally let the tears go.

After Gary had pulled him out of the Magic Copier Room, he had shown blatant annoyance towards his presence, like every little thing he did made him want to roll his eyes, but never had he struck him. Nor was he given the impression that the black-haired kid was going to. So why did the snake hit him? What was he not doing from training? He made sure to smile. He made sure to speak only when appropriate—

The second hit…he had yelled at the snake before that. He was never allowed to do that; Gary had explained that after giving him a weird look when he asked about defending himself. Thinking back on it, the black-haired kid kept on sending him side-long glances, like he was trying to figure him out. But why?

Plus, why did the snake strike him the first time?

Slowly he raised a shaking hand to the tender area on the back of his head, and winced as his fingers fluttered over the area. Yup, definitely bruised, but nothing too bad.

He tore off a square of toilet paper and used it to dab at his wet cheeks. Then, on another square he ripped off, blew his runny nose. He stood up from the toilet seat afterwards, threw the used paper into the trash bin, and looked into the bathroom's mirror.

Staring back at him was the same kid he had seen only a few hours before. This time though, the kid's pink hat sat sideways on his head, and the whites of his eyes were tinged pink and tagged with red veins, evidence of his crying. Sniffling, he bowed his head, disconnecting his eyes from the kid's confused one's, and forced a smile across his lips. This time, he made it extra wide and convincing. Maybe that was why he was hit the first time, he wasn't smiling wide enough.

With that thought in his mind, he opened the bathroom door, and stepped outside into the kitchen.

* * *

The next time someone hit him, he bared it with a smile.


End file.
